Devil May Care
by thespeedfxrce
Summary: On Halloween Night, 1981, Harry James Potter was taken from a basket on the front porch of the Dursley's home and brought to the only place that could ever truly be his home. 12 Grimmauld Place.


This story was written for the Finals of the Seventh Season of the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition. I'm writing as the Seeker for the Tutshill Tornados.

My task this round is as follows:

SEEKER: Each position has been given a book containing a different kind of magic to that of the HP universe. Your task is to take an element of one of these stories and use it as inspiration for your own. You do not have to use the same type of magic as these stories do. You can take inspiration from whatever you wish (eg a quote, theme, plot point, etc).  
_**Good Omens by Terry Pratchett & Neil Gaiman  
**_

_Harry is placed at the wrong house that fateful night and other wacky occurrences._

Disclaimer: I don't own any part of the world J.K. Rowling has created. It's all hers, from Diagon Alley to Hogwarts to all the people living there.  
Thanks to my team for betaing!

Title: Devil May Care  
Word Count: 1391

* * *

"_Just because it's a mild night doesn't mean that dark forces aren't abroad. They're abroad all the time. They're everywhere.  
__They always are. That's the whole point."  
__Terry Pratchett & Neil Gaiman_

* * *

On Halloween night, 1981, Mrs. Dursley became the only remaining offspring of the Evans family line. Her sister and nephew both perished that fateful night in a horrific car accident, and Petunia Dursley was all the better for it. That very week, one of the neighborhood hooligans played a prank on her and left a basket on her doorstep. Perfectly empty, and perfectly useful. There was a blanket inside as if it had once held something. It was no matter. She brought the empty basket inside and placed it on the counter. She would use it as a bread basket, she decided.

Many miles and a world away, a house elf by the name of Kreacher wrapped a baby in a dark blanket, in the lonely, forgotten house of number 12 Grimmauld Place. Grumbling under his breath, the house elf took his young master into a small room that had served as a nursery for all of the Blacks when they were his age as well.

And so, The-Boy-Who-Lived, the hero of the wizarding world, the slayer of the Dark Lord Voldemort, grew up in the long halls and dusty rooms under Kreacher's watchful gaze. The house elf was hardly loving, but when he first stole young Harry Potter off the front steps of Number 4 Privet Drive, he understood the responsibility he was taking. Harry Potter wasn't the first young master Kreacher had raised, and he likely wouldn't be the last.

It wasn't until Harry's third birthday that Narcissa Malfoy found out about the baby living in 12 Grimmauld Place. She recognized him immediately by the scar peeking out on his forward, hidden haphazardly by his untamed, black hair.

Her and Lucius had their first row in ages when she suggested bringing the boy to live with them in Malfoy Manor.

"This is not up for debate, Narcissa." Lucius' usual drawl was clipped and harsh. "The Potter child is in the capable hands of that elf and will be fine. He's made it out of more damning circumstances. And if he isn't"—the tall man seemed to brighten at this—"than that is the way of the fates."

"Should I have left you to your fate when the Dark Lord fell? Left you in Azkaban?"

Lucius bristled. "That is hardly the same."

Narcissa frowned daintily, but her eyes were hard. "Isn't it?" She was playing dirty and pouring alcohol into an open wound, but she could not be swayed. And neither could her husband. At least not by much.

"You will be permitted to visit the child, but he is not to live here with us, and he is not to interact with Draco. That, darling, I will not allow. None of his Gryffindor lineage is to taunt my son."

Which, of course, meant that Narcissa immediately began preparations for Harry's new bedroom in Malfoy Manor.

For the next four months, unassuming society wife Narcissa Malfoy played the part of doting wife and involved mother. She often took her son to visit his cousin. To the other socialites, this was not an unfamiliar affair, for Lucius, it was a thinly veiled lie to hide the fact that she was bonding with her son and the boy who killed the Dark Lord. It wasn't until the fifth month that she began bringing Harry Potter to the Manor with her.

Kreacher, having formed his own sort of bond with the boy, was always close at hand. Insisting his young master not be without him for more than an afternoon. Narcissa and Kreacher shared the parental responsibilities that came with raising the orphaned boy. She invited him to work in the Manor as she continued with her plan to move Harry in, but his place was 12 Grimmauld, this he made clear.

By the sixth month, Harry Potter was splitting his time between his home with Kreacher and Malfoy Manor. Kreacher and Lucius were both less than pleased with this arrangement, but Narcissa couldn't be bothered with their discomfort.

Draco and Harry grew quickly. The two boys were competitive and quick-witted and brothers in every way but blood. When they turned seven, both boys received brooms from Lucius for Christmas. Draco's was signed while Harry's was left blank but it was an improvement from blatant ignorance. It wasn't until Harry proved himself a natural on the broom did Lucius finally take stock of the boy.

When Harry turned nine, Narcissa and Lucius told him about his history and how he became The-Boy-Who-Lived. It had taken her many weeks of careful planning, debate, and a few nights of banishment in one of the many guest bedrooms before she was able to convince Lucius to join in on the discussion. His loyalty to the Dark Lord was a distant memory, but his sentiments on blood purity were certainly not. His short time in Azkaban had taken care of any residual allegiance - the stakes were too great and the price was too high. Still, Lucius' prejudice could not be changed overnight.

Lucius did not speak much during their talk, letting Narcissa carry the conversation and steer it as she saw fit. She was kind in her explanation and answered all of his burning questions, but she was also blunt. Narcissa had cultivated a life with both boys, far and safe from talks of Dark Lords and any mentions of Death Eaters. But the Wizarding Community was small, and people talked. It was no secret that the Dark Lord's most outspoken supporter who claimed to have been subjected to the _Imperius Curse_ and was pardoned off all wrongdoings was now a primary caretaker of the very entity that defeated his Lord in the first place. While Narcissa didn't lie, she did omit darker facts that were not suitable for the ears of nine-year-old boys.

Instead of turning Harry away from them, his bonds with the Malfoys only grew and his personality mimicked that of a young pureblood more and more by the day, much to Lucius' pleasure.

"Mother said I could be Nicolas Flamel this time."

"That's hardly fair, Draco. As _I_ am _The-Boy-Who-Lived_," Harry drawled with a sneer that could rival Lucius' own.

"Must you bring that up every time?" Draco pouted.

Harry feigned innocence. "Bring up what? My _legacy_?"

The blond pretended to vomit with his hands, mumbling about the other boy's 'legacy'.

"Come now, Draco," Lucius said from behind the Daily Prophet he was browsing through leisurely, "Grindelwald was considered one of the most powerful wizards in history."

"Yeah, but he lost," Draco grumbled, picking up his fake wand and facing Harry. Lucius' jaw clenched ever so slightly.

Draco's invitation from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft of Wizardry arrived in a thick, sealed envelope to Malfoy Manor. Harry's invitation was sent to 12 Grimmauld Place, hand delivered by Hagrid, the gamekeeper of the school.

For the first time in their lives, the two boys were introduced to the harsher realities of their world. Harry Potter was whisked away on "official, Ministry business", as McGonagall so eloquently put it. All of Lucius' connections within the Ministry of Magic told him otherwise, but Dumbledore was insistent that the boy be placed into a home _better suited_ for his needs.

Draco Malfoy had never once considered his family to be the villains of the narrative. The past was in the past, and his family was only doing what needed to be done to survive. He knew that, Harry knew that. Or, he hoped Harry did.

They didn't see one another for the remainder of the summer. Two days before they were set to get onto the train, Harry and Hagrid came face to face with Draco and Lucius in Diagon Alley.

Hagrid was less than cordial, and Lucius merely sneered but the two boys hugged each other tight.

"We're still mates, yeah?" Draco murmured.

"Brothers," Harry sniffed.

A naive childhood filled with friendship and only mild conflict wasn't enough to keep them from the opposing forces as political tensions grew and the infamous pureblood House of Malfoy was expected to pick a side.

It was only when Draco Malfoy was sorted into Slytherin and Harry Potter was sorted into Gryffindor did they realize that just because it was a mild night, didn't mean that dark forces weren't abroad. They're abroad all the time. They're everywhere. They always are.


End file.
